Miller: Jim Harbaugh makes no apologies for unbridled intensity

NEW ORLEANS – We have viewed him from up close for a week now, this man who, 14 months ago, we described as having the ability to irk like a jerk.

In this very space, Jim Harbaugh was crowned champion of the he-doesn't-care-what-other-people-think-of-him playoffs, the MVP of Super Bore I.

Well, after seven days of keen observation, we can report that we were wrong. Harbaugh also can jolt like a dolt.

He absolutely cares not a single iota what you, your cousin or your cousin's cousin thinks about him. Harbaugh is as preoccupied with public perception as this city's tourists are with public intoxication.

In other words, not in the least bit. For the record, it was barely past noon Saturday when two men in Baltimore Ravens jerseys were seen holding each other up and listing back and forth as they exited the Three Legged Dog Tavern. (Motto: Sit. Stay. Hangover.)

While we still believe the easier path is the one on which a person does whatever he or she wants without regard to others, we will give Harbaugh credit for being as genuine as the Superdome grass is phony.

"Jim is always going to show you who he is and I love that about him," says John Harbaugh, Jim's big brother and, for three impossibly perfect hours Sunday, his most bitter rival.

The Harbaughs will stand on opposite sidelines, head coach against head coach, blood on blood, former bunk-bed mates, grown-ups who, as kids, argued about whose turn it was to cut the grass, making Super Bowl XLVII historic, no matter what else happens.

Their parents, Jack and Jackie, conducted a news conference here, expressing their pride, joy and love, each obvious in its abundance.

John calls the moment "a perfect crossroads for us" and "a glorious thing." Jim prefers to keep the focus on the players and, if you want more than that, he honestly doesn't care. He has a football game to prepare for.

"It's really not a cliché or anything," San Francisco linebacker NaVorro Bowman says. "He's actually the guy that you see and talk to every day. When you meet him, Harbaugh is exactly the sort of person you think he's going to be."

He's also old-school, extremely so, possessing a soul that could have lined up in a three-point stance before they invented facemasks.

Harbaugh played in college for Bo Schembechler and has extensively studied Woody Hayes, two coaches who defined Big Ten football back in the day, back when the conference really had 10 schools.

Adding in his football-coaching father, Harbaugh says those are "the three coaches that I try most to emulate."

This is a modern-day leader who, during games, still wears a whistle around his neck — "I believe every coach should have a whistle," Harbaugh explains — and Tuesday referenced "Cat's in the Cradle," a song that reached No. 1 nearly four decades ago.

With that aged soul, however, Harbaugh pairs a mind very much from today. How many old-school coaches would run the Pistol offense? Or allow a player to lose his starting job because of injury? Harbaugh did just that, of course, and with his quarterback, too.

"He's a different guy," 49ers defensive lineman Justin Smith says. "He knows football for sure. That's what he was made for, to coach football."

Smith is right on that point. Jim Harbaugh is, most assuredly, different. While John comes off as the classic neighbor, one who would be known for lending power tools, Jim comes off as the crazy neighbor, one who would be known for — at 1 a.m. — using power tools.

He probably isn't actually crazy, but he does seem to be just one tick off, just slightly odd, in an intriguing, largely harmless way.

Maybe it's his insane focus or legendary intensity or the fact he competes like a drowning man does for air. Former Chicago Bears coach Mike Ditka, a man also recognized as a battler, calls Harbaugh "the most competitive guy I ever met."

Whatever it is, Harbaugh definitely seems a shade cockeyed. Even in that regard, though, he is authentic and unchanging.

"That's the great thing about Coach," cornerback Tarell Brown says. "We understand what he expects, and he's one way all the time."

Our column 14 months ago came after Harbaugh had shaken the sports world with something as routine as a postgame handshake. He executed a spirited drive-by grip-and-go on Detroit's Jim Schwartz, dismissing him like most people would a street urchin.

In the aftermath, Harbaugh offered no apology and no real explanation and announced that, among those in the NFL, his brother, John, is his only friend.

While that must be an exaggeration, it also is telling about what matters to Harbaugh. He has no use for our thoughts, no concern for your opinion, no care about how he's viewed.